Keeping Warm
by androidilenya
Summary: Kate Bishop still has nightmares a year after her best friend's disappearance. America Chavez hates her barista job and the prissy rich girl that keeps coming in at six in the morning. One thing leads to another. (Inevitably.) [AU, in-progress]
1. Chavez Coffeehouse

**And here we see my first foray into Marvel multichapter fic, as well as a first attempt at a longer AU scenario. Wish me luck. (Things of note: Kate isn't a Young Avenger, others might be, Cassie is _not dead_ thank you very much, probably this is an alternate origin story but you never know.)**

**Part coffee shop AU, part inter-dimensional road trips (probably), mostly supergirlfriends. You know how it is.**

* * *

Eleven months, three weeks, and four days after the day Cassie disappeared, Kate Bishop woke up screaming.

At least, she tried to. Woke flailing, at least, the sheets tangled in her legs and her hair in her mouth, throat closed tight around something that _wanted_ to be a scream, something that clawed and stuck and _hurt_.

She couldn't remember what she dreamed of. (Could guess, of course, but preferred not to.)

It took five minutes for her heart to slow again – she counted out the seconds on her alarm clock, the blue digits flashing the time over and over.

_4:03. 4:03. 4:03_. Like it was mocking her. _Wake up, Kate. Wake up and face another day, pretend you have it all together, 'cause you_ do,_ don't you, you've moved on and forgotten and everything's just _fine,_ thank you, fine and dandy and––_

_(And you're a sucky liar.) _

She kicked the blankets aside and stood, curling her toes against the cool floor. Down the hall, her father snored, the sound cutting through the pre-dawn silence like a machine gun. She padded across the hall and down the stairs, keeping her feet to the side so the boards wouldn't squeak and wake him up.

The tea was too bitter when she brewed it – she hadn't quite managed to get the hang of it, even if it should've been _easy_ to make it on her own, and she never got up the energy to learn how to do it right. It steamed, though, and burned her tongue when she drank, leaving a spot of pain at the tip that she worried against her lip, frowning. She moved to the window, leaning against it and pressing her forehead to the glass, cradling the teacup to her chest until the warmth was uncomfortable.

The sun was rising.

.✿.

Amsterdam Avenue was quiet at six in the morning, the stillness broken only by the occasional car coming to a stop at the intersection, taking off again as soon as the light turned green. A woman in jogging clothes crossed the street at a brisk run, the white wire of her earbuds bouncing with every step.

Kate closed her car door, the sharp thud echoing across the still street. Early November meant the sun was still only just above the horizon, cold light outlining tree branches stripped bare of all but a few, straggling brown leaves. She could see her breath fogging in front of her with each exhale.

As a child, she had pretended to be a dragon in the snow, steam rising from her nose like fire, a being of pure heat amid the freezing waste. Now, though, she was just cold.

Coffee. Coffee was good. Coffee would warm her up. Which was why she had come to this rundown little place she had driven past the other day – that, and the fact that she had never come here _before_. There would be no memories in the sugar-scented air, not this morning.

A faded sign above the café informed her that this was the _Chavez Coffeehouse,_ the gold lettering peeling off on both e's and the z. It was empty, as far as she could tell through the clouded windows, and that was something she really needed right now.

The bell above the shop door jangled as she pushed it open, a tinkling sound that would have driven her mad if she had to listen to it all day. And, indeed, the girl at the counter looked up sharply at it, as though annoyed that the noise had interrupted whatever task she was busy at – which seemed to be dismantling a piece of machinery, Kate noted, drawing closer.

She waited a good ten seconds as the girl ignored her, irritation rising in her.

"Can I _help_ you," the girl demanded when Kate finally cleared her throat.

"Yeah," she replied, annoyed. "Isn't that kind of your job?"

"Sure." The girl set down the part she was holding with a bang, looking up at Kate for the first time. Her bushy black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the dark slashes of her eyebrows drawn down over irritable brown eyes. The printed nametag affixed to her lapel read _America Chavez_. A relative of the owners, maybe? "Whaddaya want?"

_You to stop being such a bitch so early in the morning, maybe?_ She swallowed her irritation, surprised at the vehemence of it, stronger than she could remember feeling in a long time. "A large mocha," she decided, and was just annoyed enough to leave off the _please_.

The girl – America, what a weird name – turned away with a noise of disgust and started putting it together, slamming cups down and shaking the whipped cream can with far more force than was strictly necessary. Kate watched her, puzzled by how pleased she was with America's clear pissed-off-ness.

"Here," America snapped, setting the beverage down sharply on the counter, the unsteady swirl of whipped cream tilting precariously as she did so. "That's five-thirty-five."

Kate pushed the money across the counter and retreated to a nearby table, dusting it off with her scarf before sitting down. There was nobody here at what was usually the beginning of rush hour, she realized, and had to wonder if it was because of the bad-tempered barista. Perhaps everyone had learned the hard way to stay away.

It was nice, though. Being alone with a cup of coffee that was much more palatable than the tea she consistently oversteeped at home. Ignoring the aggressive way cups were being banged around behind the counter by aforementioned annoyed barista. Even the lack of the usual café music was nice.

Yes. She could get used to this.

Especially if America kept up that annoyed muttering. It very nearly made her smile.

.✿.

"You look awfully cheerful today, Katie," Barton said as she closed the door to the training center behind her, pulling her lavender scarf off with a single motion. She spared him a glare as she made her way over to the weapons rack, the half-smile that had been hovering around her mouth falling away.

"Don't call me that."

"Something nice happen on your way to work?" her coach continued goodnaturedly, following her with his hands in his pockets. Clint Barton was, as usual, unshaven and unkempt, his light hair mussed and sticking up comically in the back. Kate refrained from pointing this out, instead selecting a bow and testing its draw.

"You know as well as I do that I don't work." This was, in fact, the only time she was leaving the house today – a trip to the archery range to relax, and then it was home to chip away at her report. Junior year in college wasn't as stressful as she'd been told it would be, but then again, she had a lot more free time on her hands than most of her classmates did.

She drew an arrow from the quiver at her feet, planting her legs and sighting along the shaft at the red and black target forty meters away. Pull back. Tense. Exhale. Release.

The arrow thudded into the center of the target, drawing an approving whistle from Barton.

"How you been doing?" he asked as she selected another arrow.

"Fine." Thud. _And yourself?_ _Oh, same as usual, shooting things and stuff like that. _Screw small talk. She sent another arrow whistling down the range, hitting the target a few inches from the first.

"Seriously. Something happen on the way here? I coulda sworn I almost saw you _smiling._"

"Well, you were wrong."

.✿.

She went back the next morning.

"Is there a reason you don't play music?" she asked as America pressed a series of buttons on the register with a good deal more force than strictly necessary. The barista shot her a look from under lowered eyebrows.

"I don't want to." She paused, then: "Why, does it bother you?"

"Not at all." Then again, if she mentioned that the silence was nice, America might start playing music just to piss her off. It seemed like something she'd do.

The register banged open, causing her to start. America shoved the wrinkled ten that Kate had given her into the slot, angrily counting out change. She followed that by _angrily_ shoving said change into Kate's hand, and then _angrily _stomping away to make her coffee. Kate was starting to think that she did everything _angrily_.

The coffee was surprisingly good.

.✿.

The next morning she brought exact change. America counted it, not bothering to hide her suspicion, and snorted when it turned out to be correct.

"Got that much free time on your hands, princess?" she muttered, slamming the drawer shut. Kate offered her best sweet-little-girl smile, the one that always worked at her dad's dinner parties.

"Sure do."

America did not look amused.

.✿.

Weirdly enough, she started looking forward to going to Chavez Coffeehouse every morning – making sure to show up right at six, of course. She worked her way through the menu, keenly aware of how pathetic it was that she kept track of that kind of thing.

_Caramel macchiatto._

America's scowl as she drizzled the pale brown syrup over the whipped cream, the forced note to Kate's smile as she counted out six dollars, two quarters, and a nickel. (She hadn't slept well the night before – or at all, really.)

_Cappuccino._

Kate came in with her archery equipment slung over her shoulder, the curving shape of her bow unmistakable. America shot her a bemused glance that lingered for just a second before she seemed to remember that she hated Kate and therefore didn't give a damn about anything she did.

_Cinnamon latte._

It snowed. Kate made sure to wipe her feet on the doorsill instead of tracking puddles through the room.

_Hazelnut latte._

America did not glare at her when she counted out the money to pay for her drink.

_Espresso._

She was running late. Her alarm had gone off at its usual time, but for once she had slept so deeply that not even that could wake her. (Slept without dreaming, too.) The door to the coffeehouse tinkled open at five past six.

America's head jerked back down to the counter as Kate pushed the door open, as though trying to act like she hadn't been watching for her.

.✿.

Kate missed talking to people. It had been easier when she actually _went_ to classes, but now that she was back in her father's house, avoiding all contact with her former classmates, it was all too easy to go a whole day without speaking to anyone, especially on days she skipped the archery range.

There was an easy solution to that.

Well, not _easy_. But an _available_ solution.

.✿.

She considered the best way to approach for days, while absentmindedly ripping napkins into shreds from her corner booth behind steam-fogged windows or waxing her bowstring alone in her room.

_It really shouldn't be this involved of a process, the whole talking-to-people thing,_ she told herself, over and over. It didn't help. (Talking to Cassie had been easy. Cassie had been – and nope, she was not thinking about that, about any of that. _Nope_.)

She woke with a plan fully formed in her mind, as though someone had stolen in during the night and deposited it on her forehead.

Of _course_.

.✿.

The bell hadn't even ceased its jingling when Kate reached the counter, smiling so hard her face hurt. America didn't even glance up from the machine she was cleaning.

"I'll have an iced latte," she said.

"You sure?" America looked up, narrowing her eyes. Kate rolled her eyes.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's a little––" She nodded in the direction of the wide windows, as though Kate had not just come in from outside. "It's snowing."

"So?" Kate folded her arms, lifting an eyebrow in challenge – _got something to say, Chavez?_

"Whatever." She spun around, reaching down irritably for the ice scoop and tossing crushed ice into the cup with surprising vehemence. Kate waited for her to slide the finished latte over the counter (sides of the plastic cup beading with condensation already, why did they keep this place so _hot_) before sliding a ten dollar bill across the counter.

America snatched it up and punched the register open, rooting around in the drawer for change. Kate watched her expectantly.

"Here," the barista snapped, tossing it at her. Kate gathered it up and retreated to her usual seat. She took a sip of the latte. It _was_ a bit cold for the current weather, but she wasn't going to let America know.

Outside, the street had developed a thin veneer of snow, just enough to blur the markings on the road and slow down passing vehicles. A big black SUV pulled into the spot right in front of Kate's car and cut off its engine, windshield wipers falling still. Almost immediately, snow began accumulating on the smooth glass.

She stayed later than she usually did, long after she had finished the iced coffee. America kept shooting her dark looks.

Finally, when she couldn't keep up the pretense of stirring the ice cubes around with the flimsy plastic straw, she returned to the counter.

"Another one?" she asked, smiling.

"Another––" America nearly _sputtered_, and oh, how Kate was enjoying this. "Another iced coffee."

"Yeah." As though to underscore her point, a plow rumbled by outside, flashing yellow light lighting up the whole window. Clods of snow struck the window and slid down it, piling nearly halfway up the glass.

America prepared the drink without another comment. Kate, who couldn't exactly go back home with the snow coming down like this, decided to wait it out right where she was. She didn't feel like ordering another latte, though, so once she finished her second she leaned on the counter to watch America do – whatever it was she was doing. Mystical coffee brewing techniques, maybe.

"Whatcha doing?" she finally asked.

America grunted noncommittally.

"Feeling chatty today, are we?"

"Trying to do my job, more like."

"Oh, yes." Kate rolled her eyes. "Your _job_. Which is serving all these throngs of customers here, right?" She pulled out her wallet again.

"How many coffees can one person _drink?_" America snapped. Kate raised an eyebrow.

"It's not for me. It's for you. There's no one _here_," she added hastily, hoping she could finish before America kicked her out or something. "Have a coffee and stop glaring at me."

America glanced at the clock. "My moms are gonna––"

"One coffee."

"And a pastry." America folded her arms. "You buy me a coffee and one of those chocolate croissants and I'll sit down over there and eat it in front of you. If you give me one hell of a tip."

It sounded an awful lot like paying someone to socialize with her, but Kate would take what she could get.

.✿.

"Alright. What's your story, princess?" America regarded her over the edge of her cup, dusting crumbs off her napkin.

"Story?"

"Yeah. Like why you keep coming in here every freaking day."

_You noticed?_ was Kate's first reaction, followed closely by _well, I'm a college dropout who gets away with not going to classes because her best friend/roommate got kidnapped and that's sorta traumatic apparently – oh, and 'cause her dad pays a shit ton of money to the school._ That was a bit much for first-conversation material, though, so she settled on, "I'm pretty normal."

"Sure," America snorted. "So why not find a _normal_ place to buy your iced lattes in the middle of the winter?"

"I was working my way through the menu," Kate replied defensively before realizing how pathetic that sounded.

"I noticed."

Kate pushed down another surge of surprised happiness. God, was she that desperate for attention? "Well, you make pretty okay coffee."

"I hope it's better than _pretty okay_, considering the amount of money you've blown here."

"I can afford it," Kate replied breezily.

"I bet you can." America stood, pushing her chair back over the tiled floor with an unholy screech, crumpling her napkin in one hand. "The snow stopped. Think you can dig out your car on your own?"

Kate glanced out the window and sure enough, the storm had stopped. "I can handle it. But thanks."

"Wasn't an offer of help," America muttered. "I wanted to know if I should put on a coat and go out and laugh as you struggle."

Kate watched her retreat behind the counter again and begin to scrub her ceramic mug furiously. After a moment of hesitation, she tugged a clean napkin out of the dispenser, fished a pen out of her pocket, and scribbled her number on it.

She left it on the glass case that housed the pastries and exited the shop, the bell jingling cheerily behind her.

.✿.

Her phone rang late that night, lighting up with an unfamiliar number. She switched on her light and accepted the call.

"_Really?_" came blasting in the moment she put the phone to her ear. Boy, did America sound exasperated. "That's the best flirting method you could come up with?"

"Did it work?" Kate asked, doing a reasonable imitation of a light voice. "Oh, and since you asked, I had a _wonderful_ day, made it home safe through the blizzard and all. What's wrong with my flirting?"

"Harassing me via coffee orders?"

"Maybe I just appreciate your barista skills."

"_Sure_ you do."

She paused to appreciate the annoyed silence from the other end, waiting for the inevitable reaction. America seemed happy to oblige.

"Gonna sit there and wait for me to hang up, is that how this goes?"

"You going to ask me out?" Kate countered, just to hear America's furious noises.

"_Me?_"

"Sure."

"As if I'd do something so idiotic."

"Okay. I'll do the honors." She could feel the near-hysterical laughter bubbling up and forced it down – too bad she probably wouldn't be able to go back to that place once America rejected her, it really _was_ good coffee. "I'll meet you at your place, the usual time. So do you want to go out with me?"

Silence, then: "Fine."

Kate froze, pressing the phone closer to her ear. "What?"

"I said _fine_." America sounded nearly pleased. "You weren't expecting me to actually say yes, were you?"

"Of course I was. It's the flirting, works every time." _Nope, wasn't expecting that. Not at all. _She mustered a smile. "It'll be great. Don't be late, okay?"

America scoffed. "Yeah. Same to you, princess."


	2. Spying

**I'm behind on crossposting again so I might actually post another chapter this weekend. Yay. Also if you want to review, that'd be nice I guess.**

* * *

Kate slammed her car door with a little more force than strictly necessary and stood there for a second, watching the falling snow accumulate on her boots. In a hair salon across the street, the blue of a television screen flickered across the fogged window. A plow trundled by, throwing up a wall of dingy snow that forced her to hop aside, towards the far side of the sidewalk.

_All right, Kate. You got this. No sweat. Walk through that door like a normal human being who goes on dates all the time._

She took a deep breath. The windows of Chavez Coffeehouse were visible from here; from her post behind the counter, America could probably see her standing in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot. In fact, she was probably _laughing_ at Kate and her sudden bout of nervous panic.

It was that thought more than anything else that spurred her onwards, boots crunching in the salt and snow that spattered the sidewalk.

The jangling bell that had grown so familiar over the past few weeks greeted her arrival. She took a deep breath of the humid, coffee-scented air and tramped over to the counter, kicking the heels of her boots on the floormat before doing so. America glanced up at her.

"You're late," she noted belligerently, pushing a steaming cup across the counter.

Kate shot her a surprised glance. "You made me a coffee already?"

"I got bored," America snapped. "Don't read into it too much."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Kate muttered, counting out exact change and grabbing the paper cup. Mocha – large, with whipped cream, her first order at this place. (She wondered if she should be touched that America remembered that, or it it was simple coincidence.) It was hot enough to scald her tongue, though, and she had to struggle not to wince.

"When does your shift end?" she asked, thinking that they would probably want to go somewhere else once the other girl was available. America shrugged.

"Whenever I want, honestly."

Kate frowned. "But the other day you said––"

"What, that my hours were being enforced?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Anything to get you to leave me alone, princess."

Kate wondered if she should be hurt, and decided against it. It was awfully early in their date to be getting annoyed, after all.

"Where do you want to go, then?"

America considered this for a moment, then tapped a finger against the register as though struck by a sudden idea. "Here, how about this – _you_ make _me_ a cup of coffee and we sit in the corner and do – whatever it is you want this to be. Hold hands like normal people. Share a pastry. Is that the kind of thing you want?"

_I want to do whatever you want to do. _It was a bit soon for that, though – didn't want to come on too strong. (Even if it was, strangely, the truth.)

"That sounds good." Kate glanced nervously at the giant coffee maker behind the register as America lifted the swinging section of the counter, holding it up with a sarcastic little bow to let Kate through. She decided not to mention her complete inexperience with barista-ing (was that even a word?) and just... do her best.

That was all she could do, after all.

Besides, looking like an idiot in front of America was very low on her list of priorities.

.✿.

Her coffee wasn't _terrible_, all things considered (and okay, maybe she'd put a bit too much whipped cream on it, and maybe she'd mixed up the hazelnut and vanilla syrup, but _really_, those were mistakes anyone could have made.) America didn't outright complain, which was a plus, and her sips from the paper cup were polite enough.

Kate waited for America to speak first. When that didn't happen, she cleared her throat, casting about for something to say.

"So. What do you do for fun?"

America set her cup down, brow furrowing. "When was the last time _you_ were on a date?"

"I go on dates all the time," Kate muttered (lied). "Just – sorry, dumb question, never mind." Maybe she'd better leave now. Yeah, that'd be great – drive home, go back to bed, never emerge from under her pillow. She was an idiot for thinking that she could talk to someone as cute as America without making a total fool of herself.

But she really just _didn't know_ what she was supposed to say.

"I like to travel," America said suddenly, as though the ten-second awkward pause hadn't happened. Kate seized on this with all the relief of a drowning person offered a lifejacket.

"Like to where?"

America's eyes cut away, fastening on the sticky tabletop. "Oh, you know. Various places."

Well, that wasn't suspicious at all.

Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on the linoleum space between them. "Uh _huh_. Places. What are you, some kind of superspy – _I'd tell you where I go on vacation, but then I'd have to kill you?_"

"Something like that, princess," America agreed, shrugging. "Your turn to share your _terribly_ interesting hobbies, if you please."

"I'm into archery," she mumbled, suddenly unsure – it wasn't much of a hobby, shooting sticks at paper circles. Traveling, huh. America had probably been all over, so why was she stuck in this place? (At least Kate had her reasons for floating through life like this, perpetually in a weird sort of limbo.)

"Yeah, you lugged your stuff in here once and I thought you'd finally snapped and decided to hold this place up," came the careless reply, and Kate tried to squash the hopeful flare in her chest again – _she noticed, she _noticed.

"Nah," she said instead, feeling the corners of her mouth curve upwards in a half-smile. "It's calming, though. Even if my coach is an idiot."

From the counter behind them, there was a faint buzz. America's head jerked up, eyes narrowing, and she swore in Spanish, paper cup crumpling in her hand. Another buzz – her phone was vibrating, dancing slightly on the stained countertop.

America moved almost imperceptibly, hands tensing as though to push herself up from the table. She glanced at Kate, though, who swallowed back resentment and said, in her lightest voice, "Need to take that call?"

"Sorry, yeah." At least America looked annoyed again – like perhaps this semi-date was higher on her list of priorities than answering that phone. Still, she stomped over to the counter and swiped to accept the call, vaulting over the counter with her free hand as she did so.

Kate strained her ears, but only picked up a few words of America's half of the conversation.

"––better be good, chico." Pause. "Where?" America frowned, tapping a finger on the register. "Is it something––" She glanced up, seeming to remember that Kate was sitting right there. "Give me ten minutes."

Oh. Well, it wasn't like Kate had really _expected_ America to – you know, abandon everything for this date. She really _shouldn't_ be feeling this sinking in her stomach, like someone had tied weights to her insides.

_Get over yourself, why don't you._

America returned to the table, managing to look slightly apologetic. "Something came up."

"So I gathered," Kate replied, a little coldly. "Who you meeting in ten minutes, then?" _Another date to make, huh?_

"It's a business call." America offered her a smile that Kate refused to reciprocate. "Shit, I'm really sorry, princess."

Kate shrugged, feigning indifference. "Whatever. I'll just – go." Before America could protest (because what if she didn't?), Kate stood and exited the shop with as much dignity as she could muster.

.✿.

It wasn't like it was a big deal.

Kate _knew_ that. It hadn't even really been a date, not when they were meeting in the exact same place they'd been every other time she saw America's dumb face, and it hadn't even really been a date because it had lasted all of five minutes and since when had she _cared_, since when had the legitimacy of a date mattered to her––

Her phone lit up and she reached across her desk for it with shameful speed. She recognized America's number already – started with a nine, ended with three zeroes.

_business all taken care of,_ she read. _want to try again tomorrow?_

She waited to reply – let America wonder for awhile. Turned to her computer, clicked through her emails, rereading the same words over and over for ten minutes without taking in a single one. Her phone blinked at her from the corner of her desk.

God, she was such a cliché.

_Same place, same time,_ she finally typed out, then shut her phone off and leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh.

Getting walked out on once was _fine_. America had had a – thing. An urgent thing. She shouldn't be getting worried about this. That was the kind of thing that counted as _clingy_, and Kate Bishop did not do clingy, even with very cute baristas.

She was just going to keep telling herself that, and maybe then she'd start believing it.

.✿.

The second time it happened, it was harder for Kate to tell herself that it didn't matter.

She'd barely sat down with the cup of apology coffee prepared for her by America when the other girl's phone buzzed, this time from her pocket, almost as though she had been expecting it (waiting for it).

America swiped to accept, frowning thunderously. Kate just caught sight of the caller ID before she did so – started with an _L_, whoever it was. "What did I tell you about calling while I was on a date," she snapped in lieu of a greeting, and Kate reflected that at least she _acknowledged_ the fact that this wasn't a great time to be getting business calls.

The voice on the other end was a garbled buzz from where she sat. America's brow furrowed.

"How much of an emergency is this?" A pause, then, "_Fine_, but you owe me big."

_Oh._ Kate buried her face in her cup, hoping the steam would hide the sudden prickle of heat across her cheeks.

"It's fine," she said the instant America hung up. "It's – yeah, go ahead, I'm okay."

"I'll be back in ten minutes." America shoved her phone into her pocket, adjusting the sleeves on her jacket. "Don't go anywhere. This date isn't over."

Kate nodded, biting back a retort. One time, she could excuse, but skipping on a date _twice_ was a little much.

Business calls, like hell.

_Okay, America. You've got your secrets, all right._

She watched America leave, waiting until she had turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Then she stood, put on her own coat, and smoothed down the purple fringe. Stepped out into the street, pulling her hat down over her forehead. There was almost no one out, and America's footprints were clear in the grimy slush. She hesitated, then followed them around the block.

_Let's see how long it takes me to figure you out._

.✿.

Kate was pretty sure this was a bad idea, but she wasn't entirely convinced that that also meant she shouldn't be doing this.

The sky was light enough, even overcast, that all but a few flickering streetlights had been extinguished. Cars whizzed past, showering the edge of the sidewalk with mingled dirt and snow; she stayed well away from the street. Ahead, she could see the corner of America's jacket as she whipped around the corner.

She passed under the shadow of a cathedral, the turrets of dun stone capped with snow. Snow was soaking into her boots, completely ruining the purple leather – those was going to be a pain to replace, but she could deal with a bit of discomfort for now. The rose window glinted in the morning sunlight, and she rounded the corner to find herself in a dimmer side street.

There was scaffolding set up over the sidewalk, rusting poles supporting plywood painted that ubiquitous dark green, and she winced as snow-melt spattered her forehead. America's footsteps were harder to follow, here, so she sped up.

And skidded to a halt when she heard America's voice, coming from right above her head.

"––_really_ don't appreciate that you and your kind keep interrupting my date with a very cute girl. It's making me _mad_."

Kate froze, breath catching.

There was a muffled reply – whoever it was sounded like they were having their face shoved against the top of the plywood scaffolding. Was America beating someone up? (Somehow, Kate wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.)

She took a cautious step forward. The sounds of Amsterdam Avenue behind her were muffled – the wheezy exhale of a bus, the shrill sound of a taxi horn – but they were enough of a reminder that they were very much still in the middle of New York City, and if America was beating someone up she was doing it in the shadow of one of the biggest cathedrals in Manhattan.

There was a gap in the scaffolding, just large enough to see through. She glanced around – still no one passing by, luckily – and placed one hand on the graffitied plywood, the other on one of the support poles, and levered herself up just enough to peek between the boards.

America had apparently found time to change between the coffee shop and here, because the jacket she was wearing now sported the sort of red, white, and blue that Kate and probably ninety percent of the country associated with certain members of the Avengers (oh, because _America_, how clever of her). She also had a guy in a green mask by the throat, which was the more alarming thing.

Said masked man scrabbled at her chokehold, clearly trying (and failing) to escape America's grasp. Kate braced one booted foot against the scaffolding, struggling to keep her balance and not make a sound as she fumbled for her phone, shakily bringing the camera up and hitting record.

"You petty criminals," America sighed, giving the man a slight shake. "Never know when to take a break and let us normal people have a day off. Damn, though, I might just let you run around and shoot things next time I get interrupted."

And she turned and flung the man across the street with one hand.

Kate overbalanced and fell flat on her bottom on the wet sidewalk, landing with bruising force. Her phone – still recording – nearly slipped out of her hands. She juggled it, swearing under her breath, as America leapt down from the scaffolding and stalked across the street towards the fallen man. Mercifully, she failed to turn around and see Kate sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, water soaking through her pants and into very uncomfortable places.

_Shit. _She stood up, shaking both from cold and the adrenaline pumping through her.

America's back was to her; she didn't turn around when Kate sprinted back down the sidewalk, soaked coat flapping against her legs with every step. She rounded the corner, panting, and nearly collided with another pedestrian. Ignoring the shouted profanities from a taxi driver, she cut across the street and leaned in the shadow of a store awning, curling her fingers through the metal bars of the grey pull-down front.

What the hell was going _on_?


	3. Superheroes, Apparently

****With a note that my knowledge of the Morningside Heights area of NYC is literally my distant childhood plus a college visit and I have the worst head for geography and none of this is right, probably. WHATEVER.****

* * *

Kate barely managed to slide into the booth seat before the door opened again, spilling icy air into the shop. She wrapped her hands around her now-lukewarm mocha, trying to look like she'd been sitting there innocently for the past ten minutes instead of stalking her date through creepy alleyways.

America took one look at her and sighed. "What did you do now?"

Yeah, apparently she wouldn't be the best at poker.

She opened her eyes wide, aiming for innocence and probably landing somewhere closed to crazed. "Doing? I've been sitting here waiting for my date to come back and continue our, you know, _date_."

America lowered herself into the opposite side of the booth without acknowledging that.

"Got your business all taken care of?" Kate pressed.

"I did, in fact." America nodded curtly. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"Hm. Better not." Kate twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, mind racing. _Okay, Kate. Don't go blurting out anything stupid, now._

Probably if she confronted America about this, she'd get flat-out denial or something of that sort. (Despite the fairly incriminating evidence on her phone and why was her brain _doing_ this, wasn't it pretty clear that America was a superhero or something and not in any way incriminated by apparently going out and doing her job? Except for the fact that beating up people without a trial or whatever was definitely a crime by someone's definition and – and.

And she had never been great about confrontations.)

_You could just ask her about it._

Yeah, 'cause that'd go really well. _Hey, America, I was wondering what you do in your free time because it looks to me like you beat up bad guys but I dunno._

There was a clump of snow caught at the edge of her coat. She busied herself with kicking that off and crushing it under her heel until it was a small puddle of slush, looking anywhere but at the girl across the table from her. What _did_ one say to someone after discovering that they were – technically speaking, whatever they might actually call themselves – a superhero?

"So where were we?" America asked abruptly.

It took Kate a second to remember what she was talking about, and another to come up with something vaguely witty. (Ha, like America didn't already know there was something up.) "You were about to apologize on bended knee for skipping out on our first date. And then you left."

Now America looked a little apologetic, at least. "Sorry 'bout that, princess."

Kate swallowed, feeling the weight of the words unspoken in the air between them. (_Just_ _ask__ her._) "Yeah. Whatever."

It wasn't like this was the first time the whole superhero thing had been an issue.

(_Yeah, Kate, my dad's Antman, your archery coach is Hawkeye. What's the big deal?_)

She felt America's hand close around hers and jerked with surprise, nearly pulling away. America's grip was tight, though, and there was something almost like concern in her brown eyes.

"Is something the matter?"

Kate took a deep breath. There was no sense in letting this ruin her date. So what if America wanted to run off and play superhero? It wasn't her business. She'd decided long ago that staying away from that sort of thing was a good idea, but it wasn't her fault that America was more... irrational.

She wouldn't have expected anything less, really.

"No, nothing's wrong. Except that my coffee's a bit cold, if you wouldn't mind making me another one?"

.✿.

On her way home, Kate decided to Do Something. (And hoped that the capital nature of that Something would spur her into useful action, for once.)

There were several things she knew: America Chavez (if that was even her name) made damn good coffee. And was also very cute. On the other hand, she apparently possessed a superhuman punch that she used to send petty criminals through buildings. Kate had photographic (videographic?) proof of that one, no less.

Never mind that consorting with superheroes had left her with a less-than-stellar track record in the past. Including, oh, a kidnapped best friend. But that point seemed to be slipping her mind of late.

She shook her head, trying to focus. _Anyways_, there were quite a few things she didn't know. Most importantly, if America was planning on taking her on another date. Secondarily, why exactly America was running around in a costume in the first place. And what sort of implications that had for their dating-thing, given that America had definitely _not_ mentioned this. Ever.

_She should probably talk to America about this whole thing._

Except she couldn't just _talk_ to her, because of course not.

Hence the need for more of a – for lack of a better word, more of a _scheme_.

Well, if there was one thing Kate Bishop was good at, it was elaborate, superficial schemes that got the job done in a very roundabout fashion.

She reached for her phone.

_hey. want to go for dinner on Friday? my treat._

A few seconds later, America's reply came dinging in. _where to?_

Kate felt a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. _that's a surprise. but wear something nice ;)  
_

.✿.

On Friday evening, she dithered in front of her closet for a ridiculously long time. Most of it was purple, a combination of apparent attempts by her father to win her favor by only buying her things in her favorite color plus Kate's own shopping habits. Anyways, she _did_ like the color, even if Barton teased her about copying _his_ color scheme.

Whatever. She looked _good_ in purple. Everyone said so.

_Yeah, but you're mostly worried about a certain possibly-superhero barista liking it, right?__  
_

So she wanted to impress her date. That was normal enough.

In the end, she settled on a lavender silk affair, with a darker purple skirt that draped lower in the back and brushed the tops of her knees like a breath of cool air. She affixed a set of drooping pearl earrings to each ear and shook her head to feel how they tinkled with the movement.

_How long has it been since you dressed up just because you wanted to?_

It had been even longer since she had dressed up to impress someone. There was a light sort of glow settling under her collarbone, jittery anxiety and anticipation and undeniable excitement. Her hands were steady as she adjusted her mirror, though – she could have shot off a dozen arrows right on target without even blinking. Good to know that she could depend on that, at least, even if a bow really wasn't necessary at a formal dinner.

Her reflection peered back at her with poorly disguised criticism. She'd never been able to impress herself in much of anything.

Well, she hoped America liked it, anyways.

.✿.

America, she realized belatedly, had never told her where she lived. She attempted one awkward cruise past the coffee shop itself, which (like most New York buildings) had apartments stacked above it in layers of brick and glass, but none of the lights inside were on and she really didn't relish the thought of having to go in and buzz every apartment until she found America's. Mostly because chances were high that America would walk in on her doing that and laugh at her.

Well, America would just have to find her, in that case.

_meet me at Amsterdamn &amp; 114? _she texted, keeping one eye on the road in front of her. There was a parking spot open just outside the college campus; Kate pulled into it and kept her engine idling. She waited there for America, keeping an eye out for bushy black hair and probably something along the patriotic color scheme she seemed to favor.

The credit card her father had given her last week was safe in her wallet, along with a set of invitations that had cost someone a lot of money. It had been a bit of a challenge to get this together by today, but Kate wasn't above pulling a few strings if it meant a successful date.

There was a tap on the passenger side window. Kate jumped a little, then hit the button to unlock the doors before glancing over.

America opened the door, raising an eyebrow. "Hey. Nice outfit, princess."

"Uh." Kate took in America's crisp blue suit (_called it,_ part of her noted smugly) and white shirt. How was it even possible to look that cool? "Yeah, you too."

"Where we going?"

Kate retrieved the invitations from her pocket and waved them at America as she pulled out onto the street, towards Riverside Drive. "Someplace special."

.✿.

"Care to see the wine list, ma'am?"

"Sure." Kate accepted the leather-bound booklet from the black-uniformed waiter and considered it, ignoring the way America's eyes were suddenly burning into her as the waiter backed away.

"You're not old enough for a wine list."

She waved a hand without looking up. "Close enough. Besides, it's a date, so why not?"

America huffed under her breath.

When the food came, Kate watched America take her first bite, feeling ridiculously on-edge. America hadn't seemed terribly impressed by the place, no matter how exclusive it was (invitation only and private dining rooms, etc.). Still, _impressed_ didn't fall into the range of emotions she had seen from America so far – those had mainly gone from _annoyed_ to _furious_ to _slightly non-annoyed._

"So. Ever been to someplace this fancy?" Kate asked, picking up her fork.

"Sure I have."

Kate sipped from her glass, giving America a disbelieving look.

"I've traveled," America elaborated.

"Yeah, so you said. Anywhere in particular?" She leaned forward on her elbows, watching America take a large bite of whatever Italian pasta dish she'd decided on.

"Around."

"Damn," Kate sighed. "Do you get off on playing up your mysterious aura or something?"

That got a smile from America – small, barely a twitch of her lip, but still. "Maybe, yeah."

"Okay, then, how about this." Kate shifted in her chair, tilting her head to one side. This looked like an opening that could work. "I'll – make something up, and you tell me how close to the truth it is."

Now America definitely looked amused. "Go for it, princess."

"Well, let's see." Kate considered the girl across from her – the light from the crystal chandelier above cast glittering spots across her suit, glinting off her hair. She didn't look super worried, probably figuring it was highly improbably that Kate could guess at anything substantial about her. (Hopefully this was going to work, otherwise she'd have ruined a perfectly good dinner.)

"You seem like the type that would be some sort of undercover agent, right. Like... a spy." She paused, pretending to reconsider. "No – I guess that's too subtle for you."

"Too subtle?" America looked almost offended.

Kate smiled brightly. "Sure. You seem like the type that would go for... punching people in the face. So I guess you're more of a _superhero_, aren't you?" Because she was watching for it – _expecting_ it – she saw the way America tensed ever so slightly, eyes flicking up towards Kate then back away again, forcibly nonchalant.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kate sat back in her chair, crossing her arms with a flash of satisfaction.

America shrugged and stabbed a piece of pasta with the wrong fork. "Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but I'm completely normal."

"I wouldn't say so."

"Really?" She looked up at Kate, dark eyes narrowing. "—is that an attempt at flirting?"

Kate dipped her hand into her pocket. So far, so good – at least America had given her an opening. "It's the truth, that's all."

"Even if it was, there's no way you could prove it. Looks like I'll have to maintain my air of mystery for a little longer, huh?"

"Suppose I _could_ prove it?"

Something like interest flashed in America's eyes before she managed to conceal it. "And how would you go about _that_, princess?"

"Oh, I don't know." Kate tapped her fingers against her chin, mock thoughtfully. "Suppose I had a video?" She shoved her phone across the table. America looked confused for a second before she realized that the screen was playing a video of _her_, the video Kate had taken on their last date, kicking some guy across the street, in full superhero mode.

And that got her attention, apparently.

America raised an eyebrow, setting her fork down. "You followed me."

Kate lifted her shoulders, making her best attempt at an innocent face. "Maybe I wanted to make sure you weren't meeting up with some other girl for a coffee date."

America scoffed. "As _if_. I've got high standards, you know."

"And I meet them, I hope?"

"Hm. Just barely." She tilted her head to one side. "The fact that you apparently have a desire to play the spy is a plus, though. Covert operations and all that. Good counterpart to punching holes in things."

Kate felt the corners of her mouth twitch. "Still, I gotta admit, this whole thing makes me feel like some kind of comic book cliché – 'unsuspecting sorta-girlfriend shocked by alter ego revelation' or something like that."

America mumbled something that Kate didn't quite catch.

"What's that?"

"There's no _sorta_ about it," America snapped, and Kate realized with a jolt of surprise that she was _blushing_. "I thought that was – clear. Given that I came on this date with you and all."

"Oh." It didn't feel like enough – there was probably something she was supposed to _say_ in a situation like this – but really, how did one respond to that?

America buried her face in her glass, apparently giving up on her attempts to be coherent. Kate considered doing the same, but eventually said, "Well, thanks for not lying to me – after I brought it up, at least."

That got a small smile, to her surprise. "You're too smart for me to bother lying to you, especially since you figured it out all on your own. You're not pissed, I hope." That wasn't _quite_ concern in her voice, but it was – at least she cared, as far as Kate could tell.

"Damn right I'm too smart." Kate flashed her a grin, taking a sip from her glass. "Want dessert? I've heard this place has _killer_ chocolate mousse."

.✿.

They left the restaurant at half past nine and crossed the street together. Above them, a train rumbled across the overhead tracks as they headed for the riverbank, where the sodium-orange lights sparkled off the water. The park by the riverbank was quiet at this time of night, the only occupants a stray jogger or two passing along the paths.

She took a deep breath of the cold night air, feeling it sear her throat. The only sounds were their footsteps on the path and the soft lap of the Hudson on the riverbank, the traffic on highway above providing a soothing backdrop. Familiar noises, to Kate.

(She wondered how long America had lived here, if the ebb and flow of the city had imprinted itself in her blood yet. It was the sort of poetic thing she tended to start thinking when she was running on too little sleep and a bit too much chocolate.)

"Did you have fun?" she asked, and got a sideways smirk in response.

"Of course I did. Free food and a date with you, what else could I ask for?"

Kate stifled a grin. "You're paying next time."

"It'd only be fair, I suppose."

At some point, Kate reached over and took America's hand. The only recognition of the gesture America gave was a soft squeeze, but that was enough for her.


	4. Lesbian Space Princess

**Pointless fluff.**

* * *

Kate strode into the archery club and dumped her gear on the nearest training bench, then kicked off her flats. Her coach looked up from his cluttered desk, which was shoved into a corner behind the equipment rack and consisted mostly of a coffee maker and a few week-old newspapers.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he grunted.

"Been busy," she replied breezily, unzipping her bag. She'd started attending classes with some vague sort of regularity, and the workload was _killing_ her, but – but.

Every afternoon, she went back to Chavez Coffeehouse and flirted with America and drank coffee until closing time.

It sort of made up for everything else.

Though now that she thought about it, her life _had_ started to suck a lot less recently.

Her nightmares had started to go away, something her therapist would've said was a good thing, if she ever went to her anymore. (It was on her dad's account, he could afford it, _whatever_. What no one knew wouldn't hurt anybody. Or something like that.)

"What about you?" she asked Barton, nocking an arrow to her bow. "Got much business at your day job?"

He snorted. "If that's supposed to be a subtle way of asking how the Avengers are doing, you could turn on the tv sometimes." He moved a newspaper and knocked over his cup. "Aw, coffee."

Kate smirked. "Nice one, Barton."

"Hmph." He tried to sop up the spilled coffee with the newspaper, then made a disgusted sound and tossed the whole mess into the overflowing trash.

After a moment, he added, "You know, there's an archery competition up in Springfield this Saturday, and while it would hardly be fair for _me_ to go, what with me being a card-carrying Avenger and all, it's not as if that applies to––"

"I've got a date," Kate interrupted, pretending to inspect a scratch on her flawless bow. "So that's a no on any tournaments in the foreseeable future."

"A _date_, you say?" Barton's eyes sparked with interest. "So you've gotten over your moping phase and are out having some fun. Congrats."

"Like I need support from _you_," Kate grumbled.

.✿.

She passed through the park on her way to the coffee shop on Amsterdam. There were crocuses poking their heads out of the ground, green tipped with purple, and puddles of melting snow that she skirted around carefully.

_Wonder what kind of flowers America likes,_ she wondered absently, and resolved to ask her at some point today. (She'd never been the type for romantic gestures, but somehow this felt different.)

A fluttering motion at the edge of the path caught her eye, and she slowed. An animal of some sort? Whatever it was couldn't be that big, but it was making a lot of noise for its size.

She nearly jumped with surprise when a big black bird of some sort – crow, raven, something or other, she'd never been a birdwatching person – flapped onto the path, surprisingly inelegantly.

"Hi," she greeted it, and immediately felt like an idiot.

It hopped to a halt in the middle of the path and regarded her with a flutter of its wings.

"You're in my way," she found herself saying, as if the bird could understand her. Also, the way it was staring at her was a little creepy – she felt like it was preparing to spring up and attack her.

Did crows do that?

She tried to remember anything she could from that one movie Cassie had made her watch, when they were both in ninth grade. _The Birds_, or something, that old Hitchcock movie. With – with the birds. Because that was an accurate scientific depiction of how birds worked, right?

"Please don't attack me."

Beady bird eyes blinked at her. A breeze stirred the budding branches of the trees above.

_Changes coming_, she heard in her head, words clear as they would have been if spoken out loud. They were not in her voice.

The crow flew away.

.✿.

By the time she reached the coffee shop, she had decided not to tell America about her weird bird encounter in the park. It had just been a weird old crow, and any voices in her head were entirely her own. Not bird voices.

Because that would be _weird_.

Anyways, she was going on a date with America, and that was more important than some stupid crow.

"I told you I could've met you at the museum," America grumbled when Kate rounded the corner. The barista was leaning against the brick wall of a building, hands in her pockets. "No need to walk halfway across the city."

"You look nice, too," Kate grinned. "I felt like stretching my legs."

"That's what a museum is for. Walking around and such." America pushed away from the wall and stretched. "And absolutely zero petty criminals."

"Oh, is that why you picked it? I was wondering."

"No more interruptions, princess." A hesitation, then America offered her a hand. "Come on."

Kate grinned, heart going all light and floaty as she took America's hand. (God, she was such a loser.) "Let's go."

.✿.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself," Kate said as they paused in the tenth gallery they'd seen that day. She was grateful she'd decided not to wear heels, but who knew America was so into art?

America, for her part, continued to stare at the Monet painting, looking faintly unimpressed. She'd definitely heard, though – she only got all quiet like that when she was trying to ignore Kate. Well, might as well play along with her.

"I've never really liked Impressionistic art," Kate mused. "Too fuzzy."

America shot her a glance. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like more..." She waved a hand. "Bright things. Bright things are nice."

"You'd love my home dimension, then," America replied, offhand.

It took her a second, then— "Home dimension? You're an _alien_?"

She shrugged. "Yes. My mothers are rulers of Utopia—"

"Wait. Does that mean you're a princess?"

Now America looked at her, looking faintly amused. "By your definition, yes."

"You're an _alien lesbian princess._ I'm dating an actual _princess_."

"More or less." America leaned against the display describing the artwork, right under the sign reading _please do not lean on the railings_. "They decided that if I was going to be romping around all the dimensions, I might as well have a stable home base on regular Earth _and_ learn a sense of responsibility."

"Hence the barista job."

"Yeah, that."

Kate nodded, still trying to wrap her mind around the princess thing. _Wow_. "And I thought _I_ had a pedigree."

"You're not all that impressive, princess," America scoffed.

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm – not sure how I feel about you calling me that, now."

"What, _princess_?" America smirked. "You act more like one than I do. Want to go get something to eat?"

"_Sure_ I do," Kate muttered, then nodded. "Not here, though. Museum food's weird."

America raised an eyebrow as if to say, _see_? Kate had to admit, she did have a point. Barton liked to call her a spoiled brat, in the friendliest way possible, and _he_ also had a point, as much as it pained her to admit it.

.✿.

Halfway back to America's place, waiting at a crosswalk for the light to change, Kate swung around and looked up at America.

"Want to come over to my place?" she blurted out, then felt her face heating. "Just to hang out, I mean. Well not _just_, if you want – I mean – oh god I sound so weird."

"I'm used to it," America deadpanned. "Sure, princess, I'd love to visit whatever mansion you call home."

.✿.

"...so this is the living room, and, uh, if you want to sit down, that'd be cool."

America regarded her, unblinking. "Are you always this awkward with houseguests?"

"No. Honestly," she added when America made a face of disbelief. _Only when it's someone as cute as you,_ she amended mentally. "Need something to drink? I can – do that."

_Shit._

America looked like she was stifling a laugh as she sank down onto Kate's couch.

"You sit down too," she ordered. "It's making me nervous, having you hover like that."

Kate joined her.

"Is your house always this quiet?" America's head dropped back against the couch. Kate nodded.

"My dad's always off doing stuff. He bribes me with pretty jewelry when he feels like bonding with his daughter." She made a dismissive gesture, forcing it only a little. "I'm usually out shooting things at the archery range, anyways."

"You take classes or something?"

"I've got a trainer." She edged closer. Their legs brushed. "Sort of sometimes an Avenger, sort of usually not."

"Impressive connections."

She thought of Cassie, just for a second, saying the same thing – _nice job getting an in with the Avengers, might as well join me over at the mansion –_ and shoved it down ruthlessly. She _wasn't_ going to think about sad things right now.

Instead, she said, "I suppose." And leaned into America, burying her face in her shoulder. America smelled good, somehow warm.

"Did you have fun today?" she mumbled.

America nodded, draping an arm over Kate's shoulder. "Sure did."

"Didn't mind my nosy questions or anything?" She smirked, just a little, and curled up against America.

"Only a little."

"Hm." She thought for a second, then said, "I've got my own lesbian space princess."

America huffed a soft laugh. Her lips brushed Kate's forehead, briefly, and then she pulled back and settled against the couch, arms around her.

Kate closed her eyes. This was nice.

She didn't want to lose this.


End file.
